Getting Swamped

*Nod nod* YES! Continuee <3

Chapter 12: A Fool-Proof Plan

Chapter 12: A Fool-Proof Plan

There is nothing quite so debilitating as a false sense of security. Piggy had had almost a whole day go by without anything that she felt she couldn’t have handled on her own, and the bonus had been that she had had the benefit of Kermit’s company all day. Even in their own world, the pleasure of Kermit’s company for long periods was hard to come by.
In short, it had been a good morning, a good early afternoon and Piggy felt that things were looking up. Kermit had provided a satisfying if unexciting lunch of peanut butter sandwiches and dried fruit. The water was cool and slightly mossy tasting, and while Piggy found it interesting to her taste buds, she would have given almost anything for a diet soda. Oh well, she thought philosophically as she dressed for the afternoon. I probably drink too much caffeine anyway. She felt relaxed and happy, and when it came time to make an executive decision about wardrobe, Piggy picked a sassy little number that started with a full petticoat with spaghetti straps. The crisp chintz floral buttoned over it with little pearl buttons all the way up the bodice, which set off her own strand of gleaming pearls handily.
She looked into her trunk, thinking of shoes and debating her choices. It was not a matter of practical verses fashionable—technically speaking, Piggy did not own any practical shoes, or any unfashionable ones. She considered the cute little wedges with the cork heels, but eventually style won out over all other considerations, and she chose a pair of dreamy, ivory-colored high heels that re-sculpted the way she walked in ways too marvelous and mysterious to elaborate on. Like most men, Kermit was sometimes blind to the raw appreciation of footwear, but he had learned to appreciate the effect it could have on her mood and movement.
He admired her—and the effects of the shoes—when she stepped out of their little hideaway and struck a pose.
“Hey there, good-looking,” said Kermit, after carefully ascertaining that there were no aural organs, little or otherwise, listening in.
“Back at you,” said Piggy with a sultry growl. The smoky effect was somewhat lost when she leaned toward him and almost fell forward on him—overbalancing on the shoes in the soft earth--and they kissed and giggled like teenagers as they attempted to keep Piggy on solid ground.
This was nice, Kermit thought, standing in the relative privacy of the path and bussing his wife. After the swarm of tadpoles this morning, he longed for a little adult time, and this seemed an excellent way to start.
Relative was definitely the word for it, because Kermit’s second cousin Lynette rounded the corner with her boyfriend Vincent in tow. She clucked at them teasingly.
“Tsk tsk,” she said. “Leave you two unchaperoned for long and see what happens.”
Kermit’s cheeks flamed with heat, but he ended the kiss almost defiantly before turning to his tormentor.
“I was trying to have a private moment,” Kermit said irritably, but some of his ire was cooled by his cousin’s benevolent look.
“Yeah, tell me about it,” said Vincent feelingly. “I know just what you mean.”
“Vincent!”
It was Lynette’s turn to blush, then laugh, and after a minute, they all joined in. Piggy leaned against Kermit and felt him relax, enjoying the good-natured teasing. Piggy’s family had been very different, and much, much smaller. She wondered what it would have been like to grow up in a family this size, caught herself wondering what it might be like for children to grow up in a family where-- Once again, Piggy caught her thoughts going down a path she hadn’t dared tread yet, and she felt her face almost glow with the effort. She was glad for the diffused sunlight filtering through the trees, and glad for Kermit’s strong arms around her.
“Best head for the grub,” said Vincent, ever the pragmatist. “If they teenagers get there before the rest of us….”
Grub turned to grubs in Piggy’s mind, and she shuddered delicately. She vowed the next time she was in Four Seasons to read the entire menu from cover to cover and savor each delectable idea lovingly. The thought cheered her. Although she was no longer hungry, thanks to the combined efforts of Kermit and Sherwood, she was not enjoying mealtimes here the way she normally would. It wasn’t just the selection of food. It was the effort involved in appearing interested in the food so as not to hurt Jane’s feelings.
They had almost argued about that again last night, with Kermit increasingly adamant that Piggy should let him tell his mother, bear the brunt of any disappointment, and adjust the menu accordingly. Piggy had been equally adamant that Kermit stay out of it, that she was fine and not starving and that she would not hurt Jane (or call attention to her own different-ness) for anything in the world. Their heated discussion had eventually produced heat of another sort, and the argument was set aside for a later time while they tended to other matters. Remembering their furious whispering in the dark, and the other furies that had followed, Piggy smiled.
It had been a good day, and tonight she would sit around the fire with Kermit and his family and they would sing and play and make merry under the stars. It seemed a fool-proof plan.
But as Piggy would soon learn, you should never underestimate the ingenuity of fools.

Wonderful update!

I loved the way you got into detail with how she judged her shoes and the playfulness Piggy and her beloved frog share. The last line was so interesting and dare I say it--dramatic! It shot me like a gun and sent me back on my feet. :3 I was flying through this whole chapter as the romance is very dream-like. I adore your updates each time.

Chapter 13: What You Don’t Know…

Chapter 13: What You Don’t Know…

Supper was actually fun, and there was to be a repeat of the singing and merry-making. Piggy wondered if it was always like this, or if this degree of merriment was on account of her, well, on account of her and Kermit. She smiled, watching Kermit talking to his father. How alike they were in some ways, and yet…yet, Piggy saw the clear imprint of his mother’s features on his face, saw something of her in the elegance of his hands. She caught herself smiling.
A tadpole wandered up near Piggy and pointed mutely at one of the battered tins which had been passed around the clearing earlier. Piggy recognized it as the one which had held fat, white grubs the other evening, but she was in a buoyant mood, and thought she could stand the thought of handing one to this little cutie. She hefted the tin, a little surprised by the weight. Dead weight, her mind prompted, and Piggy quickly clamped her mind shut and looked away, distracting herself even as she worked to pry the lid free.
The little tadpole jumped up and down in excitement, and Piggy hastened her mission. She could certainly put aside her queasiness to help put a smile on this youngster’s face.
Unsuspecting, Piggy started to open the tin. Kermit heard the rasp of the metal lid, turning slightly toward the sound. There are some moments, usually too horrible to recall, when your life flashes before you, or at least patches of it rush by you while you try to make your lungs still pump air and your heart keep beating. Kermit was having one of those moments now.
He was too far away to reach her. He started to shout, but the thought of startling her, now, made him clamp down on the sound. Only a gurgle escaped, but it was a very Kermity-sounding gurgle, and Piggy looked up and toward him, momentarily taking her eyes from the tin.
Egypt, they say, was once inundated with locusts, and certain mid-Western states had suffered hoards of the insects over the years. Neither place had anything on Piggy, who suddenly found herself in the midst of a small hailstorm of flying, jumping bodies.
Dead grubs are one think. Live grasshoppers are quite another.
Piggy let out a shriek that sent nesting birds up into the air for a least a mile, and she shot up off of her log flailing wildly at the hundreds of raspy bodies. Several of them tangled in her hair, between the layers of her petticoats and dress, walked and jumped and drug across her bare skin. Her yelps of distress had awoken all of the sleeping children (and every sleeping adult within a half-mile of the clearing) and some of them began to cry. Kermit scrambled toward her, but tripped in his haste. He found himself flat on his back, staring up at the sky stupidly, but Piggy’s hysterical cries urged him on. He jumped to his feet and ran across the clearing, careful of the embers from the fire. Several brothers and sisters and cousins had leapt to Piggy’s defense, but she was mindless with fear and revulsion. Their attempts to stop her from swatting and swinging were hampered by their very real need to stay out of her way, lest they be flattened.
Determinedly, Kermit dodged a swing that would have felled him had it connected, coming up under Piggy’s arm and throwing her arms around his wife. Terrified, Piggy screamed at this apparent attempt to restrain her before she registered who her captor was, then she latched onto Kermit, all but immobilizing him by the strength of her grip. Kermit felt the air leave his lungs with a whoosh and struggled for breath.
“Piggy,” he wheezed, “not so tight or you’ll, gah, *pant pant* yeah, um, choke me….”
“Oh—make them go away! Make them go away please please please please!” Piggy panted. Several of them were, indeed, going away, but not of their own volition.
“Piggy! Piggy, Honey! Just hold still, okay? We’re getting them, okay? We’re going to make them all go away.” Kermit made several of them go away between murmured comforts, and it was just as well that Piggy was standing with her eyes squeezed tightly shut, as though by failing to acknowledge what was happening would make it stop.
Kermit saw Lynette and Vincent, his father and mother, and a handful of helpful others all snagging struggling grasshoppers with their agile tongues, but they seemed to make no dent in the number of wriggling bodies. There must be hundreds, thought Kermit with something like amazement. Whoever had packed that tin had certainly intended for this to happen. Kermit had a short list of people who might have done it, and the name started and ended with one name: Maggie. Guided more by instinct than design, Kermit threw his arms around Piggy and held her tight. This had as much to do with self-preservation (and family preservation) as it did with comforting Piggy, but it seemed to calm Piggy down a bit. She put her face into his neck, ignoring the furious attempts of the grasshoppers caught in her hair to free themselves, and tried counting all the department at Neiman Marcus in her head. She did not know, nor would it have helped, had she known that she was roundly cursing (in a ladylike fashions) insects, swamps, frogs and sisters. Kermit swore, suddenly and definitively, that he would never hold it against her—and he would never bring it up. He secretly hoped she would never remember.
More family members crashed through the clearing and began to munch grimly on grasshoppers. The awakened children waded into help, which was not helpful, and soon, the tangle of froggy arms and legs and tongue all waving around Piggy made her feel wildly claustrophobic. If Kermit hadn’t been holding on to her….
But he was. He held on tight, making sure no grasshoppers lurked in the folds of her petticoat, and gently disentangling the four that had gotten caught in her hair and were now buzzing furiously in their desperate attempts to get away. He did not eat them, but tossed them down where they were immediately snatched up my youngsters. Piggy gave a shudder, then another. Kermit was fearful that she might actually be in shock, and he looked at her in some concern. Jane must have had the same idea, for she came up and put her soft hand on Piggy’s face until Piggy opened her eyes. Piggy’s teeth were chattering but she was beginning to calm down naturally. Jane smiled at her, and Piggy gave a split-second attempt before burying her face in Kermit’s neck, humiliated and miserable.
That might have been the end of it, and Kermit would always wonder what might have been different had what happened next not happened next. In the sudden silence in the clearing, caused by the eventual lack of all grasshoppers, there came a strange but oddly familiar sound. Laughter. Peals and peals of hysterical laughter were coming from the far side of the firelight. Kermit’s chest swelled indignantly, but he could not leave Piggy, both because he couldn’t and because he wouldn’t, but Croaker ran across and gave a cry of indignation and anger.
“You!” he gritted. “And you!” Kermit saw him haul Orville and Norville up from the ground. "Why, I oughta--" Far from contrite, they were beside themselves with mirth, laughing so hard they’d fallen out of their perch in a nearby tree. Croaker wasn’t a large frog, but he manhandled, er, frog-handed the two miscreant with ease.
James the Frog stood as straight as he was able and glared at the two young hooligans.
“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded.
“Oh, man! You should have seen her!” said Norville.
“It was better than any of her movies,” said Orville. “When she started swinging at—“
“Did you put those grasshoppers in the tin?” James asked. His voice was quiet, but carried clearly.
“No, man!” said Orville. “That wasn’t us—that was, um, that was someone, um, else.”
“But it was awesome!” snickered Norville. “How great was that!”
“Enough!” roared the older frog. “That is quite enough out of you two.”
Some of their mirth was cooling, and they looked at each other nervously. Neither of them looked sorry, but both looked sorry they’d been caught.
“What a disgrace!” said James. “Piggy isn’t just our guest—she’s a member of the family. I’m ashamed of you, and if your mother was alive, she’d be ashamed of you, too.”
Orville cut his eyes at his twin. This was not quite the reaction that had expected from everyone. Certainly everyone had been amused by Kermit’s wife’s lack of swamp sophistication, but they hardly thought it warranted being called down in public for laughing at it.
“Yeah, but did you see her?” he mumbled defensively. “She was—“
Norville elbowed his twin sharply in the ribs, but it was too late. The damage had been done. With a sob, Piggy broke free from Kermit’s embrace and ran.

Oh gosh.

I felt her humiliation and nearly cried.

(How emotional of me )

You give Piggy such a sweet side of her that we do not really know about. Miss Piggy risking to put her hands in what looked like a grub pan just to make a frogling happy? That was something I could see when she's not busy being a Diva. I felt my heart swell at the effort to calm Piggy down even though Kermit failed miserably to. Oh continue! <3

Okay, guys--it gets better from here on out!

Chapter 14: A Part of It All

Chapter 14: A Part of It All

Piggy had worked with the muppets for a long time, so it was safe to say that she was proof against most mortification and embarrassment, but failing phenomenally onstage—whether through your own efforts or because of the efforts of, say, a couple of dozen penguins—is quite different from the sort of personal embarrassment that Piggy had just suffered. It was made worse by the fact that she had begun to feel welcome and relaxed—if only just a little, and now she felt foreign and strange and out of place again. She stumbled once and her run slowed to a walk. She’s had quite enough pratfalls for one visit, thank you. She made her uncomfortable way across the clearing toward their little sanctuary, wiping at tears.
Adrenaline is a funny thing. It spurs the fight or flight instinct, readying you to take on the world, or run from it. Piggy had done a lot of the former, but not much of the latter, and her chagrin was changing rapidly to indignation. She thought of a million different ways that she could have reacted that would have been better than what had actually happened, and she dwelled with increasing despondency on the things she had said in her terror.
Oh, please let Kermit’s family not hold it against me! She thought desperately. I didn’t mean it—I was just…just pathetic, her mind prompted. She wilted suddenly, her anger deserting her. What must they think of her! What must be going through their minds? Piggy actually seemed to shrink, imagining the conversations in her wake, Kermit’s embarrassment at having brought such a silly wife home, everyone’s pity, Maggie’s triumph. Hot tears began to spill again, but they were tinged with anger, too.
It wasn’t fair! She had done the best she could! There were times when Piggy had insisted she’d given her all to the show during a lackluster rehearsal when even she did not believe it, but in her heart, she knew that had not been the case tonight. She had…she had done everything she could…and it wasn’t enough. Poor Kermit, stuck with her citified ways and silly clothes and—a sob escaped, and Piggy clamped her hand over her mouth.
Actually, it was the sob that helped Kermit hone in on her. He had been trying to find her, but she had managed to get off the beaten path a little, and he had not wanted a repeat of the all-swamp search they’d had earlier in the week. Kermit scrambled after the sound and overtook her with relative ease.
“Piggy,” he said gently. “Honey—you didn’t have to run…I mean, I was…I was looking for you,”
“Yeah, well I’m easy to spot. I’m the big pink one with the stupid clothes and the stupid shoes and the grasshoppers and grubs on her clothes.”
Taken aback by the vehemence in her voice, and unaccountably amused by her description, Kermit dared not show his mirth. In truth, her anger cheered him a little, for it meant she was not giving up without a fight. His heart lifted microscopically. He tried to stop her forward progress but she pushed around him angrily. This, too, struck him as a good sign. Whether she realized it or not, her anger at him meant that she still trusted him to love her and want her—not matter what. Kermit intended to make sure she realized that he did.
“Piggy,” he began. “You’re not—“
“I know I’m not!” she cried miserably. “I’m not—I’m not what you thought! I—I can’t do this anymore! I can’t keep pretending that I fit in here with you and you’re--” She would have said “wonderful family,” but her breath caught on a sob.
“You don’t need to pretend,” Kermit started. “You’re—“ He would have said “already part of us,” but Piggy didn’t give him time to finish.
“Out of place and useless and stupid,” she muttered. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do here—I don’t know how to act.” She sounded angry, but there was just enough of a plea in her voice for Kermit to latch onto it. She would not listen to his soothing now, but he had often gotten under her skin in other ways.
“That will be the day,” Kermit said dryly. Piggy’s tear-stained face shot up. Was he teasing her? After everything she’d been through? His bemused eyes said yes. Piggy stared in disbelief as Kermit crossed his arms over his chest.
“Piggy, you don’t have to be a frog to be Piggy the Frog.”
“But—but I--” Piggy faltered. In spite of herself, his words salved her wounded pride—but not for long.
“And I thought we’d already been over this,” Kermis said sternly, half-teasing. “I just want you to follow your instincts, Piggy.”
“But—but that was on the set!” she protested. “I’m not an actress here.”
“Exactly!” said Kermit triumphantly. “So stop acting.”
“What?”
Kermit put his hands on his hips. “Don’t ‘What’ me, Piggy.”
“What are you talking about?” Piggy demanded. She would have stamped her foot but had found out the hard way that it only made her high heels stick in the mud.
“I’m talking about you trying to be what you think everyone else thinks you ought to be, or a cross between June Cleaver and Shirley Jones.” Piggy had often sniffed with disdain at the stylized housewives of the early days of television, and their purely ornamental function.
“June Cleaver!” Piggy snapped. “How dare you—“
Kermit stepped back and regarded her with his chin in his hand. “I think it’s the pearls,” he said thoughtfully.
Piggy’s eyes narrowed. “Oh—oh, you are the most aggravating, most irritating frog on the entire planet!”
Yes! Kermit thought. He was getting through! Now, if only he could turn the tide of the conversation…
“Are you sure?” Kermit teased. “Cause I think my sister is still in the running for—“
“She is!” Piggy howled. She was almost panting, her ribcage heaving. “And two of your cousins are vying for second place! But you—YOU!” She glared at him. “You are by far the most—“
“Wonderful?” Kermit suggested helpfully.
“Wonderful-hah!” Piggy cried. “Try annoying! Try insufferable! Try—“
“Debonair? Charming?”
Piggy glared at him, a glare that had downed grown men at 30 paces.
“Out of my way,” she grunted, “or so help me I will—“
“Kiss me?”
“You are sooo sleeping in your own tussock tonight,” Piggy muttered.
“I’d rather be in a hotel room with you!” Kermit said. He was a quick study, Piggy noted. Since they’d gotten married, he’d honed his radar and his survival instincts, and now he hovered just out of karate-chop range.
At the thought of a dry, clean, air-conditioned hotel room, Piggy felt slightly crazed, her eyes pricking with tears. Ducking her head hastily, Piggy tried to push past him, but—stomp or no stomp—her left heel refused to budge. She gritted her teeth, abandoned it, and kept going, forging through the swamp grass all catywampus. With a sigh, Kermit retrieved the shoe and ran after her.
She had not gotten far. He found her trying to pry her other shoe out of the muck, angry tears running down her face. Gently, he gathered her into his arms and held her close, murmuring little nothings of comfort into one velvety ear.
Tenderness worked where teasing had not, and Piggy turned into his arms, clinging to him.
“Piggy,” he said gently. “Here—I’m here. Don’t cry.”
“I’m making such a mess of things!” Piggy wailed. “Everything I do is wrong!”
“That’s not true, Piggy,” Kermit said soothingly. “You’re doing fine.”
“I’m not!” she almost wailed. “I—my clothes are all wrong. I’m afraid of snakes, I can’t eat your mother’s cooking, and I hate mosquitoes and grubs and grasshoppers and all those icky—“ Her breath caught on a sob. “And my shoes keep sticking in the mud!”
“I know, Honey,” Kermit insisted. “I know. But don’t worry it—those things aren’t important.”
“They are!” Her voice was pleading with him to understand. “They’re important to you, so they’re important to me.”
Her face was turned up to his, her lashes wet with tears. Kermit tightened his arms around her, noticing in the process that she had tree sap on her sash. Wisely, he did not mention it.
“You’re important to me,” he said. “Not the clothes or the food or the…the shoes.” He tried not to smile, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. “How, um, many pairs did you bring, anyway?”
“None of your beeswax,” Piggy murmured, her voice muffled against his neck.
“You’re right,” Kermit agreed. “That’s between you and your hernia.”
“Oh, Kermit, I—“ Piggy looked up at him again, her blue eyes tragic. “I’m trying so hard! I—I don’t know what else to do.”
Kermit brushed her hair back from her face, getting lost in those sad eyes.
“Why don’t you kiss me,” he said softly. “That’s always a good place to start.”
Having just lectured her on the importance being her own pig, of not blindly following the whims and directions of other people, Kermit was more than pleased when she took his suggestion to heart. Piggy tightened her arms around his waist, closed her eyes, and kissed him as though trying to blot out the entire swamp.
It worked exceptionally well. Kermit forgot where he was, who he was and, indeed, everything else except the fact that he belonged to Piggy, and she to him in the beautiful moonlit dusk. Gently, Kermit pulled her back with him into the shelter of some overhanging vines, letting nature’s arbor provide privacy.
For her part, Piggy forgot everything that, moments before, had seemed so all-encompassing. Her embarrassment, the heat, the damp, the mosquitoes—which had thankfully kept their distance once Kermit arrived on the scene—all faded in the background. In Kermit’s arms, it was impossible to feel out of place.
All around them, they could here the happy trilling of contented frogs as Kermit’s family and friends made their own peculiar night music. Crickets were chirping, too—somewhat incautiously, Piggy thought—and the soft lap-lap of the water against the embankment was as comforting as a heartbeat. Without warning, lips still locked with Piggy’s, Kermit began to trill, too, the sound arising from some deep, instinctive place. Surprised, Piggy stood stock-still for a moment. She felt the reverberations in Kermit’s frame and in her own, entangled as they were in the twilit night.
Kermit is a part of this, thought Piggy. She felt her heart catch with emotion. I want to be a part of this too! She lacked the necessary physiology to trill, but she could hum. She held tight to her frog—her husband—and added her own musical noise to the natural symphony around them.
Kermit looked at her in surprise. It was too dark, now, to see Piggy’s face, but he could feel her gaze on him in the dimness.
“Oh, Sweetheart,” he said softly, and that was all he needed to say.

You are so romantic in all your chapters. I feel so butterfly filled (does not make sense--*Giggle* butterfly filled XD) and I always feel like a puddle of lovey dovey mushiness. I love feeling like that-it makes me feel like the kid that dreamed of her prince that was to sweep her off her feet and save her from the wicked witch. I could see Kermit toying with Piggy so sweetly and her constant complains. Oh marriage is so wonderful!


<3 thanks for the update Ru! <3

Wow wow wow, Ms. Ruahnna! (I hope I spelled that right!)

That was just...lovely! Oh, the way Kermit plafully teases her, and the way he comforts her..Oh! I loved it all. Just beautiful!

Um..would it be rude to ask for more? Please, ma'am?

Chapter 15: Resolution

Long after Kermit had succumbed to sleep, Piggy lay awake in stunned contentment, his body draped protectively over hers. The grass was soft beneath her, the night air sweet and soothing. How different everything had seemed before, how changed everything looked to her now! How could she have forgotten—even for an hour—the way he made her feel, the way she loved him without reservation? If this was Kermit’s home, this was her home too, she thought fiercely. She would find a way to make it work.

Piggy woke up early the next morning. Snuggled into the warm, grassy tufts she marveled at how comfortable she had been. Sleeping like a log, she thought, and had to clamp a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle. Kermit stirred sleepily but did not awaken as she parted the curtain of vines and stepped out into the sunshine. Her dress was a mess, but her cotton petticoat still looked fresh and provided adequate coverage. More than adequate, she reminded herself, since everyone else around her was as nature had made them, and no more. Her shoes were still back in the viny alcove where Kermit slept, so she picked her way carefully through the marshy grass. Piggy squinted up at the sun, orienting herself, and made for where she thought the cooking area must be Stopping and starting a couple of times, Piggy finally found herself near the clearing where Jane did her cooking, but still completely enclosed in foliage. The swamp had once seemed one big morass of flora (and alarmingly, fauna), but now that she was catching on, she realized that the place was full of little private rooms separated by hanging curtains of vines and Spanish moss, just like the one Kermit had secured for them! Piggy frowned, determined. She knew that going back wasn’t the correct direction… That thought made her pause, then set her jaw determinedly. No, no going back, not literally, and not figuratively. She would just have to go forward—somehow or other! She pushed through what looked like the most accessible spot and burst triumphantly into the clearing. Her mood quickly turned sheepish when her mother-in-law startled and turned from her huge cooking pot to smile at Piggy.
“Oh hello dear,” she said warmly. “I thought I was the only one, um, stirring.” She looked down at the ladle in her hand and then up at Piggy and both of them burst out laughing. Jane patted the log nearest her invitingly. “Come keep me company,” she insisted. “A watched pot never seems to boil.”
Jane did not mention her ordeal of the night before, but Piggy caught her casting anxious, surreptitious glances her way and did her best to seem composed. She picked her way over carefully and sat down, studiously avoiding a look in the big cauldron. Worried she might appear rude, Piggy nodded her head at the cooking area and tried to look interested. “What are you cooking?” she asked politely.
“Oatmeal,” Jane said, trying hard not to smile.
Piggy looked up, almost daring to hope. “Just—just oatmeal?” she asked.
Jane nodded briskly. “Um hum. The doctor is always on to me to eat more whole grains, and it certainly won’t hurt any of the others.” She inclined her head at a huge stack of bowls and a couple of airtight tins near the end of the log. “Get a bowl,” she said firmly. “And there’s brown sugar in one of those green tins.”
“What’s in the other one?” Piggy asked, making conversation.
“Don’t ask,” quipped Jane. “You’ll know if you’ve gotten the wrong one.” Jane softened her teasing with a reassuring smile. “Nothing that will hop out, dear. I promise.”
With alacrity, Piggy fetched a bowl, her mouth watering as June filled it with steaming cereal. Luck was with Piggy and the first tin she opened was full of brown sugar clumped into enticing little shapes. Piggy stirred in brown sugar until it made a little caramel-colored swirl throughout, then took a tentative bite.
“Oh,” she said, feeling the sugar hit her system like a drug. “Oh Jane—this is wonderful.”
Jane scooped her own bowl, sugared it sparingly and then, with a quick look to verify that they were unobserved, added two additional heaping spoonfuls of sugar. She stirred quickly and popped the spoon, upside down, into her mouth.
“Wow,” she said contentedly. “Thath hiths the spotht.”
Piggy looked at her in surprise, and Jane made a comical face and swallowed.
“No one can a good example all the time,” she admitted. “I’m always telling the grandchildren not to do this, but—oh! Once in a while you just have to splurge.”
Well, well, Piggy thought. She isn’t perfect after all. The thought made her feel better, but somewhat guilty, and she regarded Jane shyly from under lowered lashes. As if sensing the scrutiny and aware of the meaning behind it, Jane reached over and patted Piggy’s plump knee affectionately.
“But I guess you know all about trying to be a good example, dear—don’t you?
Startled, Piggy looked up. “I don’t…what do you mean?” she asked.
Jane smiled and her dark, fathomless eyes seemed to see right through to Piggy’s soul. Her expression was very kind, and she didn’t answer Piggy’s question directly.
“James and I got married for a long, long time ago,” she said, clasping her hands in front of her and smiling off into the distance. “We were so in love and oh!--we were so young. I can’t even imagine being that young. The first time we visited James’ family, I remember feeling so, so lost and uncertain.” She looked over at Piggy. “Now don’t think that I ever doubted that I loved James or that he loved me, but married? What did I know about being married?”
“Yes,” Piggy said softly, hardly aware that she spoke. “Exactly.”
“We hadn’t grown up very far from each other, but I felt like I was entering another world. Everything was different--the way they talked, the way they did their hair. I felt terribly out of place.
“The way they dressed,” Piggy suggested dryly.
Jane looked at her and smiled. “Yes,” she said. “That, too.”
“So…how did you and James…?”
“Oh!” said Jane, taking up her narrative again. “Well, it didn’t help that I was shy, and quiet, so two of his brothers teased me quite a bit. It was their way of being friendly--they had no idea how mortified I was.”
“What happened?” Piggy asked, her interest piqued.
“James wanted to rush right in and tell them to knock it off, but I didn’t want him to. I wanted to find my own way of dealing with them.”
Piggy leaned forward in her seat. “Did you?” she asked breathlessly.
Jane looked at Piggy carefully, then her voice dropped to a whisper. “Yes,” she said. “I did, but it wasn’t very nice.”
Piggy grabbed Jane’s hand between her own. “Now you have to tell me,” Piggy insisted, and Jane began to laugh.
“Well,” Jane said, “it’s like this—“ and proceeded to regale Piggy with tales of ancient revenge while Piggy took several mental notes.
When the deed was done—and the contemplation of a new deed had been firmly established, Jane looked over at Piggy and her eyes turned reproachful.
“I—I’m so sorry about last night. We--Kermit should have told me about the food,” Jane said sternly. Mortified, Piggy hastened to his defense.
“He wanted to!” she said earnestly. “I—I wouldn’t let him. I didn’t want to…hurt your feelings.” Her voice was small, and it was Jane’s turn to reassure.
“That was very sweet of you, but it wouldn’t have hurt my feelings to make a few of your favorites, too. I’m sorry I didn’t even think to ask. We were just so excited that Kermit was bringing you that I got all in a tither.”
Piggy gave a tentative smile.
“I can’t imagine you in a tither,” she admitted, but Jane gave a little laugh that was almost a groan.
“Smoke and mirrors, I assure you,” she said ruefully. “If I look organized, it’s only because I’ve buried all the bodies.”
Piggy wondered idly about burying a few bodies of her own, and it must have shown on her face, for Jane laughed out loud again. Her laugh was full and infectious, and Piggy felt some of the tightness in her chest leave with a small chuckle of her own. A sudden remembrance of her recent humiliation washed over her, and for just a moment, that chuckle hovered on the edge of a sob.
“Kermit loves your cooking!” Piggy blurted. “He says that nobody makes a millipede loaf like you.”
Jane beamed. “Well, I’ll take that as gospel,” she said happily, “but I’m guessing millipede loaf isn’t quite your cup of tea.”
“No,” Piggy admitted, and dared one quick peak at Jane’s eyes to be sure she wasn’t being cruel with her honesty. “But—but I’d like to have the recipe.”
Jane’s smile was like the sun coming out. “Of course, dear! Kermit would be thrilled if you took the recipe!”
Piggy decided to take Kermit’s advice and abandon all pretense. “I don’t know anything about cooking,” she admitted. “But I know some wonderful chefs.”
Jane eyes widened in surprise and interest, and Piggy hurried on. “There’s this one little bakery that make these cookies that Kermit just loves.” She looked at Jane doubtfully. “Do you know what chocolate chip cookies are?”
“Heavens yes!” said Jane. “We know about chocolate! Seventh wonder of the world!”
The women laughed.
“There’s this bakery that makes chocolate chip cookies, only they replace half of the chocolate chips with—“

“Honey, I don’t know,” said Denise for the umpteenth time as they walked across the clearing. Her daughter did not deal well with “I don’t knows” and looked more than a little disgruntled.
“But she wouldn’t leave, Mama,” Cee Cee insisted. “I just know she wouldn’t--not without saying good-bye.”
“Well, I’m sure she wouldn’t unless it was an emergency,” said Denise with false brightness, but she was not-so-secretly doubtful. After last’s night disgraceful prank, Denise wouldn’t have blamed Kermit’s new wife if she were currently hundreds of miles from the nearest frog, swamp and grasshopper. Still, nothing was going to be resolved on an empty stomach—not at this hour, anyway—and she had brought Cee Cee to see her Great Aunt Jane with the hope of a breakfast—and a moment’s peace from her daughter’s anxious speculation.
She parted the vines and found—to her complete astonishment—the aforementioned new wife giggling in a conspiratorial way with Kermit’s mother. Both women looked up with such guilty and amused faces that it was obvious that they had been up to something.
Cee Cee launched herself across the space and threw her arms around Piggy’s neck.
“I knew you wouldn’t leave,” she said fiercely. “I just knew it.”
Denise looked mortified, not willing for Piggy to think herself the topic of other people’s conversation, but Piggy was used to being the topic of other people’s conversations. She took it in stride and smiled tentatively at Kermit’s cousin. Jane had gone a long way toward easing Piggy’s misery about last night, but the thought of facing Kermit’s cousins proved to be daunting.
“Hello, Denise,” Piggy said, using her how-nice-of-you-to-have-me-on-the-show voice. Denise thought she was doing pretty good to be getting enough air with Cee Cee’s crushing grip around her neck.
Denise smiled back tentatively. “I’m sorry to barge in like this,” she said, genuinely embarrassed to have interrupted what was obvious a private conversation herself. “We were just, um, coming for breakfast. Cee Cee was up early and….” She trailed off.
“There’s oatmeal,” said Jane cheerily. “Get a bowl.”
“Oatmeal….” Denise repeated, still uncomfortable. Piggy looked up from helping Cee Cee get seated next to her, and her eyes were grave.
“Yes,” she said solemnly. “Just oatmeal, I’m afraid. We seem to be fresh out of grasshoppers….”
For a moment, the solemn look held, then Piggy’s eyes lit up with merriment, and Denise began to laugh. Cee Cee looked at her mother in astonishment, then at her new friend, who was also beginning to giggle, then joined in.
“Oh, bless your heart,” said Denise. “That was such an unkind trick to play on someone who’s not used to…I mean, someone who isn’t….” Oh dear! thought Denise miserably. I didn’t mean to—
But Piggy waved it away like a billow of smoke.
“Well, it wasn’t very funny at the time,” Piggy admitted. “But it seemed funnier later, after…well, after I got over being so startled.”
“Those two are incorrigible,” huffed Denise. “Why last month they had half the tadpoles terrified of a Bog Monster with big googly eyes, a huge nose and horns on his head.”
“I think I’ve worked with him,” Piggy said dryly, but not quite loud enough for Denise to hear. Cee Cee giggled and put her hand over her mouth.
Denise went on with her story while Jane scooped up oatmeal and brown sugar, and before long, their party of four had turned into a revolving party of hungry frogs coming and going until the big vat of oatmeal was almost empty.
It was, thought Piggy, like eating the proverbial elephant—one bite at a time. Although her cheeks burned with embarrassment more times than she could count, Piggy managed to maintain the same, self-effacing grace she had shown with Denise until the bulk of the big family had come and gone. She could feel Jane watching her, nodding from time to time with approval, and that made Piggy think she could eat a dozen elephants! Um, face down a dozen annoying cousins, that is.
One of Piggy’s tried and true maxims had long been, “If you mess up, pretend you meant to do it all along,” and this wasn’t so different. Kermit’s family was more than happy for any excuse to excuse her, and many of them expressed indignation and remorse over what had happened while she poked fun at her own over-reaction and tried to appear unexcitable. Often, she looked up to find Jane smiling at her, pleased and proud, and the sight made Piggy’s heart warm. She could do this. She could. And it was ever-so-nice to not have to do it on an empty stomach.

Kermit stirred slowly as the sun began to filter into their private arbor. Sleepily, he reached over to drape an arm around Piggy’s form but found only the spot where she had been. The surprise of her absence stirred him awake, and he sat up sleepily and blinked.
The hanging branches and vines had shielded Kermit from the full blast of the morning sun, but he realized it was well past early morning, and scrambled to his feet. Piggy must have gone to hunt breakfast without him, he thought. The thought of breakfast made his stomach rumble, and he stepped out into the sunshine and squinted in the direction of the clearing.
“Hey there, sleepyhead,” called one of his cousins.
“I guess city frogs are late risers,” teased his brother Matthius.
“Ha ha,” said Kermit. He made a scrunchy face, which—far from deterring them—only made them laugh.
“Come on,” another cousin cajoled. “I’ll bet Aunt Jane still has something hot to eat—even if you did sleep through.”
Yawning, Kermit trotted after them.
“That was some banjo playing last night,” said Elliott. “Can you teach me that alternate chord structure on Black Mountain Rag?”
“Sure thing,” said Kermit. “Can I eat first?”
Elliott consulted with his brother merrily. “I guess so,” he allowed, then they all laughed.
“Sheesh,” said Kermit, and they laughed again and patted him affectionately on the back.

Bellies filled, those who made their home in the swamp had come and gone. James had come in from his morning constitutional and sat with them for a while, displacing Cee Cee for the seat next to Piggy. He softened the blow by pulling Cee Cee onto his lap until her mother reclaimed her, but eventually he, too, had gone, leaving Piggy alone with her mother-in-law. Of Kermit there was not a trace, and Piggy smiled to herself, thinking he must have been exhausted. Her heart warmed a little at the thought of him waking to find her restored to her previous state of not-quite-grace and determined to keep plucking away at swamp life. She gazed gratefully at Jane as she dished up all of the remaining hot cereal. Echewing any help, Jane set her cooking area to rights while they continued to visit, and all but climbed into the big pot to scrub it. When it was shining dry in the morning sun, Jane refilled their coffee cups and returned to sit next to her daughter-in-law.
They did not talk about what had happened, but Piggy felt Jane’s approval as plainly as the sun that was warming her face. Indeed, as inevitably happens when women get together, the topic turns to fashion. Piggy was surprised to find that Kermit’s mother sewed, and seemed to know quite a lot about style. Ruefully, Piggy mentioned her dwindling available wardrobe, and Jane had responded thoughtfully, but on two tracks at once.
“Piggy,” Jane said gently. “Piggy, honey—have you ever bought off the rack?”
Piggy was surprised, but her “no” came out automatically. Jane smiled, so she smiled back, then added, “Well, at least, not for a long time.”
“And why is that, dear?” persisted Jane.
“Why…?”
“Yes. Why don’t you like to buy clothing off the rack?”
Piggy still had no clue where this was going, but Jane was obviously working toward something. How like Kermit she is! thought Piggy, and the thought made her relax. “Well, I—sometimes I can’t find things that work for me. Fit is so important,” Piggy said earnestly. “And some things have to be done before you even cut the material. Once it’s sewn, you cant go back and correct it.”
“Wonderful!” Jane cried. “I had no idea you sewed, dear.”
Piggy blushed furiously. “I don’t,” she admitted. I just—I’ve had enough dresses made to know.”
Jane laughed, absolving her. “Well,” she said, “at least you’re observant. So tell me—why is it better to have something made for you—just you—than to buy one off the shelf like everyone else’s.
“Because I’m not like everyone else,” Piggy said before she could edit the thought. She looked fearfully at her new mother-in-law. Piggy could hold her own with critics, reviewers and sharks, proclaiming her diva-hood and the own peculiar charm she wrought with nary a thought of being contradicted, but she cared very, very much about how her words might be interpreted. After everything that had happened, she didn’t want Jane to think her discomfort stemmed from any idea of superiority. Her worries were unfounded, however, for Jane reached out and clasped both of her hands warmly.
“Exactly,” the elder Mrs. The Frog said. “Piggy—you aren’t like anyone else.”
“Not here,” Piggy muttered, but Jane shushed her with a patient look.
“You’re unique—not just here, but everywhere—because there is only one, wonderful you.”
“But—“
“And whether you’re here, or in Hollywood, you’re still unique.”
“But I belong there in Hollywood,” Piggy cried, literally unable to help herself. “I—I have a niche. Here, I don’t fit seem to fit in at all.”
Jane’s rebuttal was mild. “There can’t be a lot of lady pigs in Tinsel Town,” she observed.
Piggy tilted her head in acquiescence, but couldn’t help muttering, “You’d be surprised.”
It made them both laugh, but Jane was like Kermit when he had a point to make. She turned Piggy back toward the previous topic.
“So, why does it bother you more to be different here than it does to be different back home?”
“I—I don’t know,” Piggy answered slowly. “I guess…I think that I don’t care as much there if people like me, as long as they respect me as an actress.”
“And actress-slash-model,” Jane reminded her.
“Yes,” Piggy said, blushing. “And actress slash model.”
“Mustn’t forget that,” Jane said briskly. “I can assure you that your last calendar generated quite a bit of interest around here.”
For a moment, Piggy looked too surprised to speak. They—they had followed her career! Hers! Not just Kermit’s. She didn’t know what to think, much less what to say.
“Sold out the first day if I remember,” Jane continued.
“That’s what Marty said,” Piggy murmured faintly.
“Soooo,” continued Jane. “You certainly stood out from the crown there.”
“Yes.” Piggy smiled, thinking she could finally see where her mother-in-law was going.
“And here?” Jane prompted.
“Here, I—I want everyone to like me. I want to fit it.”
“We do like you, Sweetie.” Jane’s eyes were sad but earnest, willing Piggy to believe it.
Piggy’s voice was very small. “Maggie doesn’t. She doesn’t like me at all.”
Jane squeezed her daughter-in-law’s gloved hands. “Never you mind Margaret,” she said firmly.
“And Orville and Norville,” Piggy couldn’t help adding. Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment. “They think I’m…silly. Ornamental and useless.”
“Are you kidding?” asked Jane the Frog. “They haven’t been this excited about anything since the last time locusts hatched.” Piggy shuddered delicately and Jane moved hastily on. “They’re wildly interested in you—not that I approve of their way of showing it at all. But don’t be so sure you haven’t won several hearts along the way.”
“Really?” Piggy’s voice was so hopeful that Jane reached out and put a smooth hand on her daughter-in-law’s cheek.
“Yes, really,” she insisted. “And as for fitting in—maybe you need to just be more yourself—truly yourself—than some version of what you think we think you should be.”
Piggy was silent, thinking. It…it was true, or—at least, it seemed true. The things that had been of most interest and which has caused the most delight had been things that had not been deliberate. They had simply been Piggy being, well, Piggy. Her clothes, her gloves, her pearls, her accent. These had inspired not just interest but imitation. Cee Cee had been wearing a string of bright clay beads around her neck this morning, and she had heard a small cadre of giggling girls say, “Oh no—after vous,” as they took turns jumping into the pond. Piggy began to smile.
“That’s what Kermit said,” Piggy murmured softly, wonderingly.
“There,” said Jane. “You know I’m right.”
Piggy started to shake her head but ended up nodding helplessly.
“But—I still feel so out of place sometimes. My clothes are all wrong.” She lifted the frothy folds of the slip. “I wanted to look feminine and sweet.” She dropped the filmy fabric. “I ended up looking fussy and overdressed.” Her blue eyes were beseeching.
“Well, I think you look lovely,” said Jane. “And, based on the way he was looking at you last night around the fire, I’m pretty certain Kermit agrees with me.”
Piggy blushed in spite of herself, but nodded, and Jane laughed in delight and patted her plump knee.
“So,” said Jane, “the way I see it, you don’t need to be someone you’re not—you just need a new image.”
“A new image…” Piggy murmured, thinking hard.
“Yes,” Jane insisted. “An image that suits you here.”
Piggy perked up and her ears cocked forward. “I’m listening.”
Jane smiled fondly. “Maybe you should think about what you’d have been like if this had been your home all along. How can you translate who you are now into, um, ‘swamp culture.’”
Piggy has a sudden image of Kermit in Tarzan-togs, herself in a fur bikini. “Me Kermit—you Piggy,” said the picture in her mind. She started to giggle.
“What?” said Jane, mystified. Impulsively, Piggy told her, and they laughed until their sides hurt.
“Um, yes. Well, I don’t think Hollywood is quite ready for that,” said Jane at last, wiping away tears of laughter and straightening her face with an effort. “But…about that new image. The way I see it, you’re going to need some new clothes.”
Piggy perked up immediately. This was one of the most welcome phrases in the English language, along with ”Won’t you have another helping,” and “We wrote the part just for you.”
Jane stood, taking Piggy’s hand. “Come,” she said. “Let’s go find Sherwood.”

Chapter 16: Revelation

When Elliott and Matthius turned toward the swamp interior, Kermit went on alone. He had not meant to sleep so late, had not known how far up in the blue sky the sun had climbed by the time he opened his eyes. He kept his feet moving to keep from wondering how long Piggy had been up, and if he would find her fretting or hunched miserably in some quiet corner of the swamp, so he did the obvious: When in doubt—ask Mom. Failing to find his mother in her own room, Kermit burst into the common clearing to the unnerving sight of his mother and his new wife side by side deep in conversation. He had only been married a couple of months, but some things are instinctive, and this was unsettling. While he watched with considerable anxiety, not sure whether to advance or retreat, Jane reached over to embrace what looked suspiciously like a tearful Piggy
“Um,” he gulped nervously, wondering if he could back out of sight before they saw him, but his flipper-shifting must have been seen. They turned at the same instant and smiled at him.
“Sweetie!”
“Kermie!”
Kermit realized with relief that Piggy had been giggling, not crying. A wave of relief washed over Kermit, followed immediately by a swift surge of anxiety.
“Hi ho,” Kermit said, smiling tentatively back at them. “Um, what are you guys talking about?”
“Oh, telling embarrassing stories about your childhood,” said his mother hastily. She turned to Piggy. “Did I tell you about the time he got into three fist-fights in one day?”
Kermit’s protests were as vehement as they were immediate, and both women laughed at his pink-tinged cheeks. Jane desisted teasing her eldest son, and they held out their hands to him in an identical gesture of greeting. Sulkily, Kermit hesitated, but only until both of them smiled and scooted over to make room for him in the middle. The invitation was irresistible, and Kermit walked forward and took both of their hands, still not certain whether he was coming into safe harbor—or walking into the lion’s den. Still, once he was wedged happily between them, a cup of java perched on his knee, he found it wasn’t a bad place to be.
Jane kissed him on one cheek, and he hoped that the synchronized act would continue, but Piggy just smiled at him. Kermit smiled back, very pleased to see her looking so happy and self-possessed. Still, there was something secretive about her expression, and when Jane stood and made some pretense of leaving them alone, Kermit turned expectantly to his wife.
Piggy’s downcast eyes and respectful silence were like those she had adopted immediately after their marriage. Kermit was immediately suspicious, but her fidgeting hands betrayed her desire to communicate something of note. He put his coffee down and took her hands in his own.
“What?” he said. “I know you have something to tell me.”
Piggy looked up, her blue eyes wide. “Kermit, I want to go to town.”
Kermit’s heart sank in his chest. Seeing her so composed after the discombobulating prank, he had hoped that the worst had blown over. And he had thought, after last night…but no. He had…he had failed her, and he felt dismal about it. He was careful, however, that no hint of his distress crept into his voice.
“Well, sure, Honey,” he said easily. “Well get a nice room in town—a place with air-conditioning, and room service and—“ For just a moment, the image swam before her eyes like an oasis in the desert, but Piggy shook it off like a pesky gnat. She reached out suddenly and put one of her soft hands over his mouth.
“Stop,” she said, her expression tender and bemused. “You don’t understand.”
“I know,” said Kermit earnestly, “but I’m trying. I know this can’t be easy for—“
Her hand had not worked, but her kiss stopped his chatter effectively. Kermit recovered from his surprise and returned her quick, fierce kiss with interest, but Piggy was already pulling away.
“Now that I’ve got your attention…” she murmured.
And my heart pounding, Kermit thought, but he listened doubtfully.
“A room in town sounds lovely, but I don’t want us to get a room in town. I want to go to town.”
He wasn’t sure what she was saying. She wanted to leave, but…by herself? But…but she had just kissed him. He continued to look blank and Piggy attempted to explain.
“To shop,” Piggy added. “I want to go shopping.”
Kermit shook himself, clearing the cobwebs and confusion away. “Oh,” he said blankly. “Oh—shopping.”
“Yes, shopping,” said Piggy with something very like a giggle. “I need to get some things.”
“Um, sure,” said Kermit, getting himself under his own power again. “Just give me a second to tell Mom and—“
Piggy put a soft hand on his chest. “No,” she said.
Kermit looked confused again. “No?” he said.
“No,” Piggy repeated. “I don’t need you to come. Your mom has already sent for Sherwood.”
For a moment, Kermit continued to look uncertain. “You don’t want me to come?” he asked, and he looked so forlorn and alone that Piggy rushed in to comfort him.
“You could come if you wanted, but you’ll just be bored. Let me waste a few hours in a mall and I’ll be back before you even miss me.”
Kermit smiled that wonderful lop-sided smile that she loved so much. “Not likely,” he muttered, but Piggy just smiled.
“Go hang out with your Dad,” she suggested. “It won’t take me long to do what I need to do.”
With that enigmatic phrase, she was gone.

Maggie was having a lovely morning. She had chortled herself to sleep last night, content with her victory. If she had had any thoughts of remorse, they had been drowned in scorn and merriment. Ha ha! she thought. Take that Kermit’s new wife! She thought with glee of the mayhem that had ensued once that silly sow had opened the tin. Though far too sly to be caught at the scene of the crime, she had heard the uproar from her perch not far away. In fact, everyone had heard the uproar, and she had heard no other topic of chatter until she had fallen asleep to the symphony of musical trilling.
For reasons she could not explain, Maggie had not joined in the trilling last night. When she had thought about it, the image of Kermit’s face had swum before her eyes, sometimes angry, sometimes sad, and the little squirm of discomfort she felt had stilled her own voice. She waved the thought away now like smoke in her eyes, and preened herself on a warm rock, determined to enjoy her triumph as long as possible.
If she had been willing to examine her motives (which she was not), she might have realized that trilling with her family was a sign of solidarity and oneness. And no amount of creative deceit on her part could convince her that she had not sorely wronged her brother.
But—but he started it! she wanted to cry. He started it by…by bringing that…that pig here. All I did was let her show how poorly she fits in here. Here with us. Us frogs.
Somehow, that thought failed to sustain her good mood. She caught herself glaring into the sky, trying to think of some reason why she shouldn’t feel bad about what she’d done and having a little trouble.
She wasn’t the only one, after all. Orville and Norville had been more than happy to devil that fancified pig. But Orville and Norville had not come last night to share what had happened in the clearing, making her feel more than a little uneasy. Well, she’d just have to track them down today and get the whooole story….

Dun listen to Count .

Kidding Eddie.

Very nicley done!
I was shocked when she mentioned "town".
I was like "WHAT?" and literally jumped while earning a strange look from my teacher who does not know I am sneaking on the comp.
Later as she explained suddenly understood and felt warm.
I liked how you made Kermit's sister feel bad...no one is ever so bad that they can't feel that they've done wrong. I like her...even though she had some intentions with Piggy that were not so good.

Hmm..I wonder what that Maggie is up to, and why she has such a problem with Piggy..hm... Oh! Hi there, Ms. Ru! I was just admiring your story here-and how lovely it is! I especially liked the bond that Piggy is starting to make with Kermit's mum- it was just lovely! And now she's starting to get back to her old self with the shopping. lol. I felt sorry for Kermit though, he wanted to come.. Anyway, as I'm sure you can tell, I thoroughly enjoyed that last chapter! Um..more please, ma'am?